Home At Last

Michael is home! This dreadful nightmare we've been living with is finally over. My husband and I went down to San Francisco this weekend for our weekly visit. We knew he was doing better and there was an outside chance that he may be discharged today at the earliest but more likely later in the week.

Today was the 30th day he's been in the hospital, the 23rd day at this particular facility. Since Thursday morning, he's been improving steadily, experiencing no further nausea or vomiting and slowly progressing from a full liquid to partial liquid diet and then on to a soft diet and tolerating everything well. Hallelujah! After much discussion at the hospital today, the decision was made that his PICC line would be removed and he would be able to come home. The joy and relief that coursed through my son, my husband and me were palatable.

Today goes right up there among the happiest days of my life. Life is good once more. Life has a purpose. I haven't felt this wonderful in many weeks.

Saturday Six - Episode 123

1. Would you prefer being a small fish in a large pond or a large fish in a small pond?

Without doubt, a large fish in a small pond.

2. If you could change one thing about the climate where you live right now, what would it be and why?

The climate in my neck of the woods is just about perfect.  The spring season could be a little longer but it always depends on how long our rainy winters last.  You take what you get and deal with it.

3. Do you consider yourself more or less normal than those around you?

Normal?  What's normal?  I suppose I'm drearily normal according to the world's current standards and definition of the word.  Ho hum.

4. Take the quiz: Are you right or left brained?

You Are 65% Left Brained, 35% Right Brained

The left side of your brain controls verbal ability, attention to detail, and reasoning. Left brained people aregood at communication and persuading others. If you're left brained, you are likely good at math and logic. Your left brain prefers dogs, reading, and quiet. The right side of your brain is all about creativity and flexibility. Daring and intuitive, right brained people see the world in their unique way. If you're right brained, you likely have a talent for creative writing and art. Your right brain prefers day dreaming, philosophy, and sports.

Oh my!  Is this normal???  (I'm hopeless at math).

5. Consider the last meal you ate: was the primary course beef, chicken, fish or vegetables? How often is this your primary course?

Beef and I eat less of it than I used to much as I love it.  We use beef as a primary course about twice a week.

6. Should men who belong to a religion which permits it be allowed to have more than one wife? In other words, should polygamy be legal on religious grounds?

Certainly, as long as the women who belong to this particular religion are allowed to have more than one husband.  It works both ways, you know.  I think the days of polygamy are over in our complicated world of today.  I love being married but isn't one spouse at a time enough for anyone?

 

Observation of Self

It's a hackneyed expression, but I have found it to be quite true that one never truly realizes how strong they are until the "going gets tough". My goings have been extremely tough of late and I've discovered that there is a choice of two paths which one can follow. One choice is to fall apart completely, have something close to a nervous breakdown and be of no use or support to yourself or anyone else. The other is to stay strong, hang on, get a grip and know that things can only get so bad before they turn around and start to head in a positive direction.

I don't think of myself as a strong, resilient person but I think I must be. The two clues that lead me to this momentous decision are that a) considering what's been going on in my life lately, I'm not in a straight jacket in a padded cell and b) my husband says I am strong and I consider him to be an excellent judge of character. How could he be wrong about me? He's known me for more than half my lifetime; therefore, I trust his opinion. I marvel at how people exist with terminally ill children, handicapped children, missing children, deceased children and the very worst, murdered children. After what I've been through these past weeks, I realize I could not bear these things. Yet again, I say that none of us know how we will deal with situations until they are presented to us. I pray that none of those afore-mentioned horrors will enter into my existence.

It certainly helps to have the solid foundation of a loving mate and supportive family. How else could we bear up? How do people without this help deal with a hell such as we've been living if they're alone. Maybe these are the ones who go off the deep end. I don't know. Within the family that I helped to create, my husband and I have been taking turns being staunch supporters of each other. Our oldest child, our daughter, has been our rock of Gibraltar. What's left of my own family are my siblings and they have been in constant communication, offering encouragement and love. It all helps.

I want to thank my husband for his steadfast love. I want to thank my daughter for her devoted love and kindness and the wonderful wisdom she's come to possess at such an early age. I want to thank my dear brother and two sisters for their concern, attentions, hospitality and love. What a lucky woman I am to be surrounded with such a wealth of love and compassion. In these emotions, I am rich beyond compare.

Tinkering Around

Off and on for the past eight months (since I received my digital camera, an  especially requested Christmas gift), I've been trying to put pictures in my journal.  I actually managed to do this recently but when I try to do what I remember doing to get them there it's not working for me.  This has been so exasperating but I keep at it.  I will succeed.

This is another attempt to share a nice picture of Michael from a couple of months ago in May.  Since I've been writing so much about him, I want to share what he looks like as well.  This is a picture his sister took when he was getting ready to go to his Prom.  What was particularly special about this evening was that all through four years of high school, Michael never went to one dance.  Come time for Prom in his senior year, he and a group of his friends decided to go all out, rent suits, a limo and make a big night of it.  He asked a girl with whom he works to go with him and they had an enjoyable time.  I was very glad he decided to go and he looked so handsome all dressed up that he quite took my breath away.

A Note of Recovery

   Last night we finally got to a turning point in Michael's recovery.  My husband called the nurses' station to get our daily update on his condition and then got transferred to speak to Mike directly.  The nasogastric tube is out.  Apparently it was removed several hours after my departure from Tuesday's visit.  He hasn't vomited or felt nauseous since its removal which is a very positive sign.  He told us he's been up and walking (the nurse verified this) and has cut way back on taking pain medication.    As anyone knows who's had surgery, the use of pain medication (while very necessary in the early days of recovery) impedes natural healing of the body.  I know that Michael was using this medication more because it made him drift off into sleep to get away from his personal hell rather than to alleviate unbearable pain. 

 

It really sounds as if he's doing what he needs to do and things are progressing in a forward direction.  It's going to take a long time but any positive news regarding his recovery is the best thing we could ever hear.  This is Michael's 27th day in the hospital.  He's been in the room he's in now for 20 days and spent 7 in the hospital closer to home.  I want my child back.  He wants to come back.  He's thoroughly sick of hospitals and everyone in them and they're probably pretty sick of him (and us) too.  Actually though, the common opinion of his nurses is that he's brave, a real trooper and has handled himself amazingly well throughout this ghastly ordeal.  And so he has.

 

 

A Visit

Today was my one day off from work this week. Since I had to work this past weekend, I hadn't seen my son since he came back from surgery last Friday afternoon. I decided I would drive down to the big city myself to spend some time with him. This is a more momentous decision than you might think. All these many trips we've made to San Francisco since the beginning of July, my husband has been at the wheel and I've been cringing and cowering in the passenger seat. My husband is an excellent driver; it's me!

Somewhere along the time line of my life, I became one of these people who fear driving on freeways or highways at super speeds. Thoroughfares where drivers seem to interpret the name of the freeway; i.e. Route 80 or Highway 101 as the speed limit. There was a time thirty or so years ago when I used to zip up and down Highway 101 when I visited my parents who lived in Sebastopol on a regular basis and we lived in San Francisco. I never thought a thing about it. The simple fact is that when you stop doing something on a regular basis over time, you get out of the mind set, the habit and driving skills it takes to handle the traffic. (Traffic which has multiplied in the last three decades, let's not forget.)

My husband's job of the past few years has turned him into an excellent driver. Still, I have my personal fears as a passenger and try with all my might not to flinch, brake or cry out loud when I see something that I think needs these reactions. I've learned to try hard to knock it off because these things are exactly what would lead us to disaster. In spite of these fears, I wanted, needed, to see my son, Mike. Yes, that's his name, Michael.

In a nutshell, I made it to his hospital room and back home again. We're always tougher and made of sterner stuff than we think, aren't we? Apparently, I am. My personal mettle's been put to the test this summer and that is no lie. It wasn't so much a visit as being a visible presence. Most of the time, I sat by his bed and read my book as he drifted in and out. Mike is still hooked up to many different tubes. However, the oxygen and catheter tubes are gone and that's a little something good. The nasogastric tube is still firmly in place pumping out lots of nasty looking, greenish-black bile that won't pass through his intestines. If they took this tube out now, he'd just throw up the bile so he has to wait until the fluid coming up through the tube clears up. He has a feeding tube inserted into his stomach down through the other nostril. Nothing's been introduced into this yet but will come in time. The PICC line is still in and his diet continues to consist of a bag of sodium chloride, a bottle of lipids and a large bag on T.P.N. (Total Parental ?! Nutrition) Yum!

He needs to get out of bed, move around and walk. I impressed this upon him while I was there and we took two walks while I was there. He needs to do this on his own. This is what he has to do to get things moving.He's angry, sad, frustrated, fed up and just wants to sleep all the time to escape the pain and boredom of the life he's been living for such a long time now. I understand all that and I tried to impress upon him how important it is for him to get up, get moving on his own. Make a schedule, set a goal. Yeah, yeah. He knows this is what has to be done and yet, doesn't want to hear it. I understand that too. How long can you listen to, "hang in there, son." "This won't last forever". "Be strong, be brave, this will come to and end". And so on. How would any of us deal with hearing this positive, supposed uplifting speech day after day? Jesus! This guy is so young. He just turned 18 before this hell on Earth began. I look at him and all I see is someone who's half there, wasting away and looks like something from The Borg. Any Star Trek fan will know what I mean. Please, please send good thoughts our way. We could all use them.

 

A Not So Happy Birthday

August 14, 2006. Today is my birthday. Today I turn 53 years old. All my life I have had the privilege of enjoying the celebration of my own special day. It has never been overshadowed by any kind of holiday (unlike my poor husband's birthday which falls two days after Christmas when everyone's tired, broke and had enough). Therefore, I'm a spoiled brat who is mourning the proper festivities of MY day, dammit!

Over the years, I've been wined and dined at fine restaurants, spent many birthdays camping at some of California's beautiful lakes and, more recently, we've spent the day at our special hot springs and my husband makes a fabulous lunch for us. This year, this time, my birthday is nothing more than another long day waiting for my youngest child to get well and come back home. This is the only gift I want for my birthday. By the way things look at this point and judging from the brief conversation I had with my son about an hour ago, it looks like I'll be getting the present I'm wishing for most...belatedly.

I have always looked and felt younger than my chronological age. I don't anymore. When I look at myself in the mirror these days, I realize with a mild shock that I look more like my actual age than ever before. This entire nightmare with our son has aged both my husband and me by what feels like ten years. We're so tired, so worn out, so emotionally played out. I hope this awful period in our lives will end soon.

An addendum: Wouldn't you know. My darling daughter and her family came to visit this evening with birthday cake, love, support and a great gift that I really needed. Details later. I thank the Gods that be for my wonderful daughter and her family and the love and support that they give so selflessly. This is why we have children!